UnMasked: A God of the People
by hyperdrive
Summary: I FINALLY Updated! Read about The Fierce Deity's struggle to remain dedicated towards those he loves and the consequences. Please Read and Review. Complete!
1. Chapter 1: A Tale of a Deity

UnMasked: A God of the People

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Nintendo, I have no claim to any of the characters in the story below (except for the name Zartaris, or the Goddess Darlen). Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo own the Legend of Zelda series, not me.

After hundreds, no thousands of years, release from my prison was imminent. I felt a presence, the presence of a young boy… I peered into his mind. Link was the ten-year-old's name, and as I had prophesized so long before, he was the Hero of Time. Once he put me, a mask, on, he would know who I was, or who I had been: the Fierce Deity God of the Universe. Or so they had once called me…

I was once called Zartaris, the God of Nobility. As a god, I have existed for eternity, and I will exist for another eternity. We gods, my family, are timeless; we have no past, present, or future. My children might call me 'father' and my parents might call me 'son,' but it has always been that way; I was never born, my children were never born, we have simply always known those family ties and respected them. It is a very difficult concept for a mortal to understand, and even as a god I find it tough to totally comprehend.

But that is history (or non-history to an immortal like myself.) More important is what is about to happen; the boy has picked me up… he is looking at me…he just said that name again, 'This is the Fierce Deity Mask?' I really hate that name, and for a good reason.

Approximately two million years ago (on a mortal time scale) I watched as my cousins, Din, Farore, and Nayru, created a land called Hyrule. I watched as they visited their people, were praised, and were loved. As a god I had always felt those things were immaterial and unnecessary, but seeing it in person made me wish I had the same. So I created my own world, Termina.

It was a beautiful land; I worked it to perfection, to such a fine degree that it almost became an eternal obsession. When I was finally done, I found all the other gods looking on with envy at my creation; though it was my first attempt, it was far superior to their own.

Yet it was still missing something. It had wind swept deserts, majestic oceans, rolling plains, and deep green woods. Every ounce of land was fertile; a little water and that spot would support any plant that existed. The animals and plants coexisted as one, and all was perfect, except for that one flaw: I had not created any people to live their. And it was at that moment that the disaster struck. It was what artists dread the most: I ran out of inspiration.

Looking at my perfect land, I realized only the best would do to fill this gap, but without inspiration, my work would be sub par. Fortunately, I had always been the best of friends with my cousins, so I asked them if I could link my world to theirs, so their 'Hyrulians' could find a paradise for themselves to live. They consented, and I created the link.

Soon my land was populated with several species of sentient life. I had the Hylians, the long eared elf like people, populating the field. The wooden, plant-like Deku tribe moved almost completely to my land, and several Zora fish-people moved in. Even Gorons, those good natured, stone eating, rock solid behemoths, took up residence. As each came, I did something no god before me had ever done. As each and every one came, I left the heavens, met him or her personally, and gave the person several gifts.

Gorons were given the ability to roll at high speed; at this speed, long blades would appear at their backs, and they could maul their attackers with them. Also, I gave them the ability to deliver a devastating 'Fire Punch' to their enemies.

To the Zora I gave the electric shield; at will they could shield themselves with power. I granted them detachable boomerang fins, which they could throw toward their enemy to stun them. Lastly, because they were frail by nature, I taught them my own version of karate.

The Deku were given a devastating spin attack to mow down their adversaries. I gave them the ability to shoot poison bubbles from their mouths, and I taught them how to fly.

Finally, the Hylians were given wisdom beyond their age as a civilization; I showed them how to tell time, make weapons, to run an efficient democratic government, and to educate their children. I granted them knowledge of electricity, and I showed them the way to run a police system, army, and postal system. I even hinted at how to build aircraft!

My world was complete. With the gifts I had given my cousins' imperfect creations, I put them on the road to perfection. The people were so devoted to me, that I grew to love them as if I had made them. I loved all I had created, to such a degree that I was a constant presence, protecting my land and its people. No evil could stand against me, for my love and devotion to what I had worked so hard for made me the most powerful god in existence. I so desperately wanted to be with my land and its people that I finally took action.

I condensed myself from a god into the form of a person. I lived among my people as one of them, and I was truly happy. My people simply called me 'The Provider,' or 'The Great Creator,' or my favorite, 'Father.' And I truly gave them as much affection as a father gives his family. They were all that mattered to me in the world; they were so dear to me that I forgot that I was a god, and I lived as one of the people, laughing with them, drinking with them, sharing their anguish and relishing in their happiness.

I wanted all living things to have paradise, even those who lived in worlds that were not mine to mess with. I started with my cousins' universe, Hyrule. My first step was to use my power to 'persuade' (I do not deny it; actually it was mind control) my cousins to follow my suggestions. I told Din, Hyrule's Goddess of Power, to remove the storms that occasionally plagued the land, to give the land an ideal climate, and to actively help take care of her people personally; I controlled her mind, and she complied. I persuaded the Goddess of Courage, Farore, to give the people the courage to face every hardship and to do every thing she could to ensure their well being; she also complied. I made the Goddess of Wisdom, Nayru, become an immortal Hylian, so she could actively and personally share her knowledge with her people.

So Hyrule became a paradise, just like Termina. I did the same with my gloomy, spiteful brother Eris; I controlled his mind and had him make his Hell of a world into a utopia for his poor peoples. My sisters were brought under control as well; then my uncles, my aunts, my sons and daughters, all my other cousins, and even my parents were under my rule. I had become the King of the Gods, and I ruled with infinite justice and love for all.

All was at peace. But then I made a fatal err: I underestimated my sister Darlen, who loved trouble and discord as much as her husband Aries, the God of War, loved bloodshed. I overheard her ask Eris, "Why is it that when Zartaris says something, we blindly listen?"

It had the same effect as the proverbial lead balloon. Eris asked my father the same question, who in turn asked my mother, who asked my cousins, who asked my aunts, who asked my uncles, who asked my sons, who asked my daughters, who asked their grandparents, and the cycle repeated for almost three years mortal time. I knew I was in a ton of trouble, so for the sake of all the mortals, I secretly prepared to fight my family. I knew the odds were dead set against me; I had five thousand relatives who were going to be very disappointed and annoyed with my conduct, and I would have to defeat them all. Yet for the sake of the mortals I loved, I was willing to fight a thousand such battles.

To aid me in my battle, I developed weapons of power only I can fathom. I invented the Black Armor of Truth and Justice, and I constructed its companion, Legend's Flame, a sword capable of destroying entire universes with one swipe of its sun bright razor. The Armor was impenetrable, and the Sword was of such power that even my divine family would fear it, for with one strike from it, they would become mortals themselves!

So I armed myself and waited. My family, treacherous as they were, pretended they were not planning a rebellion, but I knew better; all the signs were there. They were nervous and secretive, and they looked at me like I was capable of revoking their godhood (which I now was.) 

Then came that repulsive name. A week before they attacked, I was listening to them planning their battle, and Darlen was speaking. As I listened more closely, I realized they were trying to convert my son Vulcan to their side.

"Vulcan, you must understand," she said, "He controlled our minds! He made us servants to our creations!"

Vulcan defended me. "We created those worlds and their peoples. It is our responsibility to ensure they are taken care of, and my father wanted us to do that, for we had abused them. For instance, wasn't your world full of chaos from the suspicion you had sent them? Dad stopped that."

She stomped her foot hard. "I don't care! They are my toys to do with as I wish!" She snapped her fingers. "There! I just eliminated ten thousand of them! I have that right!"

I wouldn't tolerate that! No matter how disrespectful they were, I would never do that to my people! I resurrected those poor people and sent the pain of their violent deaths to her.

"Ahhhhh! Noooo!" she squealed. "I hate being punished! I hate it!" she proceeded to throw a tantrum.

"You deserved it!" Vulcan shamed, "Killing ten thousand on a whim! If I were my father, I think I would have done exactly what he did!"

She stopped mid tantrum. "How DARE you say that?! They are mine! You're just like your father, the Fierce Deity!" She screamed in frustration before storming out.

I was very hurt. How could my own family be so wicked? I soon discovered that only my son Vulcan remained on my side; all my other relatives, even my other children, joined the rebellion.

And then it came. From all sides I was besieged, but I was ready. With Legend's Flame I converted hundreds, no, thousands, of gods to mortals and imprisoned them. The Black Armor deflected every attack. My son Vulcan fought at my side, loyal and true to the end. Unfortunately, the end was very near for my dear son.

I watched in complete horror as Eris stabbed Vulcan with a trident. Obviously, I wasn't the only one who had designed weapons the past few days; the trident robbed Vulcan of both his immortality and his life in one swift blow.

I saw only red. My son's death would be avenged. Up until then I had fought a defensive battle, but now I leaped forward, attacking anything that moved. My sword 'mortalised' (changed the gods to mortals) tens at a time. I slashed, I kicked, I swore, I punched, I gouged. My family was a pack of murderers, and I would end it then and there. But I refused to sink to their level; I only took their immortality from them, but I let them live. I suppose I truly must have fought like a Fierce Deity.

I drove my oppressors back, out of the heavens. They suddenly turned and made a beeline, straight for Termina, obviously intent on wrecking my most precious creation. I gave chase to them, and right outside of the city of the Termian Hylians, Clock Town, I caught up with them and once again drove them back.

Little did I know that Darlen was in the city. I had almost won the battle; I had defeated all but ten of my relations, and I was ready to defeat the rest. I had a plan in memory: to permanently take their godhood would be sinking to their level, so once they had learned their lessons and could be trusted, I would give them their powers back. Then my enemies pointed towards Clock Town.

From the gates streamed my people, waving swords and spears. I smiled lovingly; they were going to help me. Subsequently, I saw Darlen come, and I knew the truth: she had promised my people great power, great gifts, all their heart's desires, and they had turned against me. From every corner of Termina, my people came to destroy me; the Gorons, the Zora, the Deku, the Hylians.

I could have won the battle anyway. But my people were my life; I dropped my sword and removed my armor. I felt betrayed; my heart was torn to shreds, and sadly, I surrendered to my fellow gods. So close to victory, but I could not hurt those whom I counted as my children.

I was surprised at the reaction. My people instantly dropped their weapons and cried in shame. My enemies were nearly brought to tears at my act. However, my nobility to the end only served to moderate their anger.

Before I could consider rearming myself, they took my sword and my armor, and chained me. They dragged me to heaven and forced me to give godhood back to my family. They stopped calling me Zartaris, and replaced it with that hateful name, 'Fierce Deity.' Finally, they combined their powers against me, and without my armor, I was defenseless; I was condensed from a god into a mask, and they took most of my power.

I watched in horror as they created Majora's Mask, a being of evil, and sent it to forever plague my beloved Termina. However, I did convince them to allow me one favor. I created the Four Giants, beings to protect Termina from the dark powers of Evil. In the form of a mask, my entrapped spirit was given to Majora. Then the other gods erased from the minds of the mortals their memories of me, and many of the gods, but not all of them, returned to their arrogant ways. 

Meanwhile I waited, rebuilding my strength. I watched as Majora repeatedly attacked Termina, and as the Four Giants repeatedly defeated him. I navigated the River of Time and prophesized the coming of a time when the Giants would not be able to help my people. At that time, the one called Link would arise and save my land. And so I waited…

And now the time is here. Link stands before Majora, fighting the evil mask. My time has come. Once he puts me on, my power is his. Once he takes me off, my bond with the mask weakens. If he beats Majora with me on, I can absorb Majora's dark power and change it into the power of good. Then I can escape the mask, my prison!

He put me on! I supercharge him with my spirit; I change his form into that of a powerful warrior, the form I fought the gods with. He wears my Black Armor, and he wields the Legend's Flame. Majora looks like he realizes he's in for a bad day as I change Link's child body into a fifteen foot giant, with platinum hair and the strength of an army.

Like a pro he wields the Legend's Flame; I watch Majora suffer. Majora is loosing very quickly I see. In seconds, Link stabs forward for the final blow. As it hits, I feel Majora's power in me, and I am free of the Mask.

I make my plans. First I will congratulate my new best friend. Next, I will go to Clock Town; I forgave the people years ago for their treachery. Some mortals are easily swayed, so I don't blame them. After that, I will return to the heavens; my family seems to have learned a lesson from my rule and from that war long ago. Perhaps they will forgive me, as I have forgiven them. Then, I will do something I should have done years before. I will restore my son; I will raise him from the dead, and he will rejoin the ranks of the gods.

Link is quite awed with my sudden emergence from the mask. "Link, I am Zartaris, the God of Nobility."

He was stunned.

"Thank you, my friend. You have freed me from eternal prison, and I will forever remember your act and help you."

Link regained his composure and kneeled. "I was unaware of your presence; I am not worthy of special attention."

I smiled at the boy. "You are indeed worthy. I favor all who are noble, and you are the noblest of all. I will forever help you."

"Then may I and my horse, Epona, go home?"

"You may. But first, I want you to go say goodbye to my world, Termina."

With a snap of the fingers I teleport him there. I watch as he says his goodbyes, and I send him on his way home, to Hyrule. I had the uncanny feeling I was being watched, but I expected it; after all, my family keeps a pretty sharp eye on things. I do not worry about them though. I go forth to Clock Town; all will be as it was here, for Zartaris has returned to make my world the paradise it was. All will be as it was in the heavens, for I feel that they truly have changed, I will be forgiven, and my intuition is rarely wrong. All will be as it was in my family, for Vulcan will return. I will resume my place as a protector of the people, of all mortals; I can only hope my family will swallow their pride and see the truth. Once again, paradise will return.


	2. Chapter 2: A Quest Begins

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Nintendo, I have no claim to any of the characters in the story below (except for the name Zartaris, the Goddess Darlen, the God Julios, and the Goddess Laura). Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo own the Legend of Zelda series, not me.

_…all will be as it was here, for Zartaris has returned to make my world the paradise it was. All will be as it was in the heavens, for I feel that they truly have changed, I will be forgiven, and my intuition is rarely wrong. All will be as it was in my family, for Vulcan will return. I will resume my place as a protector of the people, of all mortals; I can only hope my family will swallow their pride and see the truth. Once again, paradise will return._

My priorities were clear. To accomplish my goals, step one was to regain my powers as a god. Step two was equally obvious; I had to resurrect Vulcan, and then last but definitely not least, step three was to protect the poor, abused mortals, those people I still loved. This time though, I would use diplomacy on my fellow gods instead of mind control or military might to ensure their proper treatment. My goals were simple and well planned, so my goals would be an easy matter to accomplish.

Yeah, right!

Obviously being trapped in a mask for a few thousand years had made me overly optimistic about my release. As I strode into Clock Town, I had expected a warm 'welcome home.' At least one person would say that, I thought. Why not be happy that the benevolent Zartaris had returned to his beloved Termina? Simple reason: all the people I had known had been dead the past few thousand years.

So when I strode into Clock Town, I can say with certainty that my welcome was a complete disaster. The sight of a giant warrior god walking into the marketplace, cloaked with the Black Armor and armed with the Legend's Flame, made most people run. Those who were left ran when I walked up to one of them and asked, "What century is this?" I must have resembled a lunatic to them.

Then the guards came. Normally, I could have used my power as a god to escape the predicament, but I had used up nearly every ounce of power I had had within me to break free of the Fierce Deity Mask; I was still an immortal, but I was at their mercy. I went with them to the prison, and soon I found myself alone in a cell. I felt betrayed, but fortunately, I have always had a very patient personality, and instead of having a fit (and appearing even more insane to my jailers), I sat and decided I couldn't blame them for their sacrilegious act.

I rethought my plans. Before I reassumed my position as god of Termina, I would have to find a quick way to regenerate my powers. Once that was done, I would ascend to the heavens and (hopefully) regain my old place with my family. Then I could resurrect Vulcan and become the loving god I had been to my people.

Unfortunately, it could take months to regain my old strength; in fact, without aid it was very possible I would never be as strong as I had been. I did not want to risk that, so I decided on a course of action that could fix many of my problems. Though I knew my family definitely had some anger against me, I waited for the jailers to leave for the night, and then I kneeled and prayed for aid.

I waited for hours after my prayer ended. Though I was drained of power, I could still feel what was going on in the heavens; they were having a big argument, wondering whether or not to even bother to answer my plea.

I had started losing hope, but then in front of me, I saw an image. It was a familiar face, but I had lost so much power that I couldn't even peer into my past to remember who it was. "Who are you?" I said.

The face turned away for a moment, and I could hear laughing. "See, I was right! We should help him; after all, he is harmless now. Not only does he have no power, he doesn't remember a thing of the past." She turned back towards me.

"My name is not the issue. Your prayer is. What do you want?"

I saw that maintaining the illusion was a good idea if I wanted to become what I had been. "I don't know. I woke, but I don't remember sleeping. Please, answer my question, what should I do?"

Whoever it was laughed. "Relax. We'll help you."

As the day dawned, I found myself surrounded by a bluish beam. Just as I teleported to the heavens, the jailer entered. I wish I could have seen the look on his face, but before I could, I was beamed home.

The instant I could see again, I was in a garden, surrounded by several gods. I looked around with feigned bewilderment (thankfully, a god can't read the mind of another god), and managed to recognize Julios, my father, and my sister Darlen. I tried to remember the others, but their names were lost to eternity.

The gods circled around me, as if I was livestock at an auction and they were prospective buyers. "He has the Legend's Flame," said one of them.

"Indeed he does, and he wears the Black Armor," my father said, still examining me.

"If he wants to restart the conflict, he's perfectly equipped," remarked Darlen. "I say we put him back in a mask before he causes trouble."

Without a flinch I continued my seeming stunned bewilderment.

"I say we keep him in the dark and just keep him around the place," the goddess next to my father said, "I couldn't bear turning out our son again."

"Very well. We'll keep him up here for a while. But only for your sake, Laura."

Now I remembered who the woman next to my father was. She was my mother, and while I wanted to display my joy at seeing her again, I kept under control.

My father turned to the three goddesses who were standing at his side. "Din, Nayru, Farore, he was your favorite cousin. He is your responsibility."

Most of the gods turned and left. I watched as my cousins walked to me, somewhat disdainfully. Farore looked at me and simply said, "Come."

So I followed my cousins mindlessly. I walked, making sure to simulate amazement as I walked the heavenly palaces. I grabbed an object from the ground and ogled. "What's this? It is surely a beautiful rarity!"

"Darlen was right; his mind has gone," Farore giggled with Din. Nayru actually bothered to answer, "That is a floor tile."

Indeed it was. It was solid gold and I had lifted it from the ground. "It is surely heavenly!" I bubbled like a little child. "May I keep it? Like a teddy bear?"

I watched as my cousins lost control and cracked up. I dropped the tile and followed them.

"I suppose the first priority is to get him to bed," Nayru said. "After all, he probably hasn't slept since he escaped that mask."

Din and Farore quickly agreed, and I was led to their palace, then to a guest bedroom. After they left, I got into the bed and began plotting how to get my power back. Fortunately, I have never run out of creative ideas yet (I consider creative ideas and creative inspirations two different things), and I realized a marvelous plan.

When I had surrendered to the other gods, they had taken most of my power. The solution was simple: take it back! I would simply pay each a visit while that god slept. Then, I would extract my power from them; each god's power is different, so I would be able to recognize my own from theirs. So as darkness fell, I got up.

"So you aren't as senile as you act, are you, Zartaris?" Farore stepped out of the shadows of my darkened room.

I saw that the gig was up. "No, I'm not. I remember it all now, Farore."

"You're fortunate that I'm the only one who has realized the truth," she said, "You're even more fortunate in that I'm Hyrule's goddess of Courage. Courage and Nobility often go hand in hand."

"So what does that mean for me?" I sat on the bed. "Are you going to turn me in?"

"It means that I'm not going to turn you in," she paused. "It also means that I'm going to help you secretly regain your powers."

I could not hide an ear to ear grin as I heard the last statement. "You are? How?"

"By giving you the powers I took from you on that fateful day, not so long ago." She took my hand gently. "Concentrate. I trust you."

I could feel my power within her. The amount was small, but it was something; as I concentrated, I felt it return to me in a rush of bright light. I released her hand.

"You have no idea how much your help means to me, Farore. You single-handedly help restore my faith in my fellow immortals."

Farore nodded sympathetically. "I understand." Once again she paused. "Actually, after we sent you away, most of us gods developed a certain sneaking admiration for you. I admire you for your courage, Nayru admires you for the wisdom in what you did, and Din admires the power you exercised. I doubt if your path back to what you were will be as difficult as it looks. Just be careful."

"How are the gods treating their creations? The mortals?"

Farore groaned. "Not that again. Didn't you learn anything from being imprisoned in that mask? Do you still pursue that vain goal? Do you ask to be imprisoned again?"

"I want the mortals treated well. We created them; we owe them an obligation to treat them well. Is it not so?"

"You're right. Absolutely correct. I take care of my children now, and so does Din and Nayru. However," she said sadly, "some of our fellow gods feel that mortals are playthings. They use and abuse them for entertainment. But if you rekindle that old war, it will lead to disaster."

"I understand. I have no intentions of repeating my mistake."

Her relief was obvious. "That's good. Now I must go; as for you, do what you must."

I certainly intended to follow that statement to the letter. I would not fail in my goals again.


	3. Chapter 3: Return of an Enemy

Standard disclaimer

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Nintendo, I have no claim to any of the characters in the story below (except for the name Zartaris, the God Julios, the Goddess Laura, or the Goddess Darlen). Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo own the Legend of Zelda series, not me.

/standard disclaimer

Thanks to jade_angel86, I have fixed the Faore / Farore spelling bug. Thanks!  
  


I got to work right away. In seconds I had left my bedroom, and I had reached Din's bedroom door. It was locked, but it was no obstacle; I may be the God of Nobility, but that doesn't mean I don't know how to do ignoble things like picking locks (in fact, my elder brother Eris, God of the Underworld and Lord of Thieves, taught me). I used my restored power to conjure up a thin metal wire, and sticking it in the lock, I turned and twisted it until I heard a satisfied 'click.'

I opened the door. Din was in bed, asleep, making the simple plan I had even easier. I extended my arm and concentrated; since she was asleep, she couldn't resist as I drained my power within her back into me. It took less than a moment, and she didn't even move. When I had recovered my power, I closed the door, locked it, and I entered Nayru's room using the same method. Once again I took back my power and departed, leaving no trace of my visit.

I then left my cousins' palace and went to the next one, which was occupied by Darlen and her husband, Aries. Darlen had been the one responsible for my imprisonment in the first place, so I was extra careful as I broke in. At least I tried to be.

Instead of entering through the front door, I decided to enter through an open first floor window. I was confident in my ability to enter silently; however, one detail escaped me as I climbed through the window: Darlen had flowers in clay pots on the windowsill. Even before they crashed to the snow-white carpet, I felt then against my face, and I knew I had a problem. Crash they did, resounding, and in the still of the night, they sounded like a bomb going off. In an instant I was hiding in the bushes, and an instant, Darlen was surveying the damage.

"Laêtes! How dare you!" she shrieked. I dared to look, and I saw her scolding a small creature; a cross between cat and demon.

"Knocking over my plants! Soiling my carpet! Don't you ever learn?" she threw her hands up in exasperation while I held my breath. "Third time this week!"

After several moments, she finally left. I crept into the house and followed behind her. As she slipped into bed, I waited; the instant she started to snore, I raided my power back. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that she had had over half of my power; added to what I had gotten back from my cousins, I had become three quarters as powerful as I had been. But the fact that she had had so much of my power showed that when the gods had drained my power, it had not been redistributed equally. The question was just who had my power and who didn't?

I knew that my parents probably had some of my power, a conjecture I quickly proved correct, as they were the next gods I visited. I had recovered all but a tiny fraction of my power, but I lacked my most powerful spells, such as the power to move universes or create galaxies. Unfortunately, by daybreak, I still had not found them, and I was forced to temporarily abandon my search.

The instant my cousins and me went to eat, I realized that I had completely overlooked an important fact in my haste to retake my power. The gods I had taken my power back from would feel that that power was missing, and I found that all eyes were on me as me and my cousins entered the dining hall of the Gods.

"Get over here, Zartaris!" shouted Julios. I didn't even bother to obey; after all, I was in a tremendous amount of trouble anyway.

"I have come to take my power back, and resume my old position in the heavens." I said firmly. "You took my power from me; is it wrong to take them back? I have no intention to cause a problem."

Darlen whispered something in my father's ear.

"Prove it. Remove the Black Armor and drop the Legend's Flame," my father's voice boomed.

Did they think I was a fool? "I wear the Black Armor and wield Legend's Flame only for my protection. Until I have recovered all my power I am at my weakest, so these items compensate for my current deficiencies."

The gods prepared to attack me. "I will stand by your side, cousin Zartaris," Farore said. Her voice was determined and resolved as she took a place at my side, and I knew she meant what she said.

"I can no longer deny my conscience. I too shall help." Din joined Farore and I saw my cousins stare expectantly at Nayru.

"I will also join," she said simply, and she prepared to fight.

I put my hand on the hilt of Legend's Flame, but I did not draw it. "My fellow gods, I did not come here to open old wounds. I do not mean to deprive any of you of what is yours."

They did not even consider slowing, and they were about to attack.

"I understand your anger. But that fight was long ago and needs not be repeated. I admit my ancient mistake, but gods do change. Give me a chance to prove that I ha-" They attacked.

And so we fought. Once again the Legend's Flame proved its superiority as a weapon, and the Black Armor once again deflected every attack. For a few moments me and my cousins fought, when suddenly, the attack stopped.

Not because I had defeated them. It was something else and I felt it. It was a great void, an emptiness of inestimable size. It was as if every world in existence, every light in the dark, had together winked, and gone out forever.

And then I knew what it was. A god has a link with everything he creates, and I felt a biting pain; it was as if my arm had been cut off, but it was more than just my arm. It was Termina. It was shielded from me, as if torn away from my influence.

My fellow gods and me had suddenly lost our creations; but to whom or what? Then in the center of the hall, I saw a sphere of light appear.

"Greetings, my slaves," It said.

Julios's eyes flared red. "Did you take what was ours?" he screamed.

"What is now mine, pathetic fool."

My father had redirected his fury from me to the mysterious intruder. "Show yourself, you wuss!"

"Why should I show myself to such unevolved beings like you?"

"Because we are going to destroy you in a moment!"

"I think not, imbeciles, for I am the product of your stupidity. Ten thousand years ago you gods created me to avenge your rule under Zartaris. For ten thousand years I served your bidding, but in the ten thousandth year, I was defeated and killed. Yet in death, I grew stronger than ever, and now, I am even more powerful then my creators!"

The sphere of light dimmed, and in its place hovered a wooden object. Even before it spoke, I identified it instantly. "I am the Mask of Majora. Your worlds are mine, and you all are my slaves!"

I whipped out Legend's Flame. Imprisoned in a mask, my soul had been owned by that foul…_thing for ten thousand years, and I knew how evil it was; it was possibly more wicked and deceptive than even my cousin Set, God of All Evil. Even if its boast was true, I would give my immortality and fight to the death if it would allow me to utterly and eternally destroy that hated object._

"Incarnation of Darkness! I, Zartaris, am freed from eternal prison. Majora, I doom you to eternal misery!" I pointed my finger at the mask, and instantly, I created a tornado of flame around it. The vortex glowed brightly as its flames, hotter then the sun, encircled the dark being of Majora. As the pillar of fire died down, I summoned raging torrents of lightning and sent them to replace the flaming tornado. I followed that attack with a mere flick of my finger at the Majora infested area, yet that simple act produced a huge wave of liquid agony, which washed over Majora in holy waves. Only a god could have survived the shear brightness and noise of it all; especially when I rocked the heavens with a blast of thunder targeted at where I had last seen the mask.

It took nearly five minutes for the air to clear after I finished my attack. Nothing could have withstood god-powers of that sort; even though I hadn't regained all of my power, I had literally nuked that mask with the power of ten thousand exploding suns. The heavens were completely silent; my fellow immortals were shocked at the ferocity of my attack.

However, I had used a little to much power. My fellow immortals and I were hovering in the empty heavens, for the dining hall, the gold-paved streets, and the palaces of the gods had been completely decimated and evaporated. As I saw them starting to look at me with that particular, 'we're going to kill you!' look (Din, Nayru, and Farore included this time) I realized that I had gotten myself into even more trouble.

"Zartaris, there is no forgiveness for your kind of scum!" Julios' roar was painful even to my ears. "Imprisonment in a mask is too good for you! Even the death of mortals is almost too sweet."

Once again, the gods circled me, but this time, they weren't going to attack quite so soon as last time, I knew. They were gauging me; for there is one thing we gods fear, and that is death, for while we can resurrect people from death, no god other than Vulcan has ever died. To us gods, the thing called Death, the sudden termination of existence, the eternity of it, and the unending question of Death, "What happens after?", is the one thing we do not know, the one thing that even we fear. Well, if they wanted to see fear in my eyes, or to see me quiver and beg mercy like a coward, I would not satisfy them, for I am the only god who does not fear Death: if the spiritual anguish of ten thousand years imprisoned in a mask is not death, then what is? I only had one thing to tell them. "I am sorry. I misjudged the extent of my powers."

My steady apology, betraying no fear whatsoever, and my calm demeanor enraged them even further.

"Then you will die NOW!" Julios screamed, and I watched as they gathered there powers together. Before they attacked, I heard a shout from behind me.

"Lo and behold! I live, Zartaris!" I turned and once again I felt my anger overtake and overpower my reason. From the corners of the heavens I watched as thin filaments of dust gathered together into one spot. The ash gathered together, and I realized that the gods had stopped there preparations to attack me. Majora's Mask rematerialized.

"Zartaris, you worthless fool," the mask seemed to sneer. Even without a mouth it managed to talk, and each word was filled with malice, as if every evil deed made the mask more powerful. "Your limited intellect and even more limited powers are nothing against me. You are a demented slime mold, incapable of unraveling even my slightest weakness. And you even tried to defeat me… you are more stupid than I thought possible."

"Out of the mouth of babes and fools can come the truth, you foul thing. Realize this truth, spoken by one you have branded a fool: I shall be your end, Majora!"

The mask turned towards the other gods as if I hadn't even spoken. "You so called…supreme beings…are even lower than your rejected brother Zartaris. You have such pitiful intelligence that you have not even comprehended that in the last second, I, Majora, kidnapped several of your most respected gods, with no more than a desire."

I turned round; it was as the mask said. Julios, Darlen, Din, Nayru, Farore, Eris, and Aries had vanished, leaving no trace. Laura, my mother, gasped, and Majora's eyes emitted a fire beam, and she was consumed in flame, leaving no indication that she had even existed. The mask rotated to face me.

"Go ahead. A one on one battle. At your full power." I felt a strange beam encircle me, and I knew I had recovered all of my powers. "Your brother Eris had what remained of them. Are you ready to be truly defeated, for the first time in your pointless, frivolous, useless life?"

"Or the other way around."

"Poor fool; I pity you actually. You are just as dead as your father, mother, cousins, sister, and brother."

I leaped forth with the Legend's Flame flaming and glowing with the power of the immortals. That thing would not survive my wrath. Nothing could save it… _ever. Period. Game over, Majora; I, Zartaris, win._


	4. Chapter 4: Mortality Revisited

Typical Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Nintendo, I have no claim to any of the characters in the story below (except for the name Zartaris). Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo own the Legend of Zelda series, not me. 

Author's Note: As is easily noticed, Zartaris obviously seems much more powerful than the other gods. The reason for this is 'my love and devotion to what I had worked so hard for made me the most powerful god in existence.' In other words, his superior power is due to the fact that he is fueled and driven by his dedication and emotions, while many of his fellow gods have become debauched spectators, using their worlds for amusement. They lack drive; thus they have weakened themselves. On a different note, in many ways, after he realizes Majora's Mask is still an enemy, he grows even more powerful, for hatred becomes another driving force, increasing his already awesome power.

My wrath was nothing to underestimate as I leaped at the hated mask. If my earlier attack on Majora had seemed like ten thousand exploding suns, this attack, backed up by all my powers, was much more. In fact, when my powers had been taken from me, I was the most powerful god in existence; with all my powers restored, combined with my hatred, my every blow was like a hundred angry gods jointly attacking. Instead of being the power of ten thousand exploding suns, it was the energy of millions of galaxies detonating.

The Legend's Flame sailed through Majora as if the mask wasn't even there, effortlessly halving it. With a mere thought, I destroyed both halves. Yet when I blinked, or turned for the slightest moment, Majora was back, attacking me. Fortunately, the Black Armor of Truth and Justice, forged to deflect even the mightiest attack of the gods, protected me.

Majora's painted eyes began to glow, and I heard a whining drone, the sound of the mask preparing to shoot a beam of fire at me. I whipped the Legend's Flame around, firing a whirling disc of holy energy at the mask. Just before Majora shot the fire beam, the disc smashed into it, right between the eyes. Unmoved, it shot the beam of flame at me. It impacted against my chest, but as it had so many times in the past, the Black Armor shrugged off the blow, and I felt nothing, not even the heat.

The mask spun, Frisbee style, towards me, with spikes sticking out of its edge; wickedly pointed daggers waiting to slice through my defenses. As it approached, I angled Legend's Flame towards it and shot a blast of divine energies at it. The mask instantly dissolved, only to reappear a second later.

Majora's frustration was evident, as was mine. I had thrown all I had against it, and while each attack invariably destroyed it, the mask would rise like the Phoenix from its ashes, ready to renew the battle. The mask had thrown its all against me, yet it couldn't even scratch my Armor, and since a god cannot be weakened, it hadn't even tired me out. We seemed for all intents and purposes, equally matched.

"I say, Zartaris," the mask said, using a diplomatic tone that could have gotten a monkey elected mayor of Clock Town. "I misjudged you greatly. Unlike your fellow gods, you're no push over."

"I know you too well, you evil thing. You owned my spirit, imprisoned in that mask, for tens of centuries. I know you like the back of my hand."

"Then you see how futile our fight is! Zartaris, join my ranks!"

I launched another energy disc from the tip of the Legend's Flame. "Never shall I do such. As I said, I will be your end, even if my existence is the cost!"

Majora ducked my attack. "It is a shame you feel that way. Just think of what your 'dearly departed' relatives are going through!"

For a moment, I stopped.

"Ho Ho Ho! Yes, they are in great pain! I didn't kill them at all, I simply took their immortality from them; look at their fate!" The mask's eyes vanished, superimposed with the image of a fiery wasteland. My mother, father, cousins, brother, and even my brother-in-law, were there. As I looked, I recognized the wasteland; the burning town in the background, the Snowhead mountain range: it was Termina. Not only was the mask torturing my family, but also my people! I looked at the mask with complete hatred and malice, and I leaped forward.

I hit the mask like a truck hitting a stone wall at seventy miles per hour. Dropping the Legend's Flame, I clutched the mask with one of my armored hands and smashed it to tiny pieces against my other hand. I crushed the tiny bits left over into dust, which I burned, electrified, and finally banished from existence. Then I had a terrible realization as I felt a point against the back of my neck.

"Zartaris, you may well be the most noble of the gods, but even you aren't noble to perfection," Majora sneered. "Your flaw is now my advantage!"

I slowly turned. The mask had changed from mask to Majora's Incarnation, and in this form, it had used its whip like tentacles to scoop up the Legend's Flame. For one of the first times in my eternal existence, I felt true fear, for the only weapon the Black Armor had been unable to resist when I had first tested it was my sacred sword.

"Do you feel fear for your life, Zartaris? Do you realize your error?"

I did realize my err. I had left Legend's Flame unguarded. However, it was not my life that I feared for; I feared for my family, and for the mortals. How could I defeat the mask if it held the only weapon I could not resist? I had to have Legend's Flame back!

I dove forward and grabbed the sword's hilt. I tried to wrest it away from Majora, but the evil thing pressed down against the hilt. I felt a horrible pain across my midsection as the Legend's Flame slashed a jagged red arc through my waist, slicing both my body and my armor like scissors cutting tissue paper. As the bloodied blade pulled away, I felt utterly destroyed, for I realized that I had lost my immortality. As a last resort attack, I gathered together all the energy I could concentrate into one blast, and zapped at Majora. The being of evil simply moved the Legend's Flame to meet the attack, and in a flash, my attack, strong enough to destroy time itself, was simply gone.

It was over. I had thought I would win, but in a single battle, Majora had won the war. I knew it was ended, and so did Majora.

However, I had said that even if I had to die, I would kill that creature. I, Zartaris, have never gone back on my words, and even then, I didn't. Though I was wounded, I leaped at Majora's Incarnation and delivered to its face a feeble punch, the strongest I could manage.

With the flat side of the Legend's Flame, it swatted me across the room. I landed in a sickening bloody heap, barely alive. With the last of my strength, I forced myself to my feet, ignoring the stinging pain of broken ribs. I gathered together the last of my power; I had saved my most powerful for last. It was a power I had hoped I would never need to use, for it was suicidal; it was the most powerful of the 'kill yourself to take your enemy with you' type magic.

"Had enough, Zartaris? You know, I never thought such a weakling as you could be so determined." Majora laughed long and hard; if I had my way, it would be his last.

"Laugh, you creature of darkness, for it will be your last." I concentrated the full force of the blast on as small an area as I could around us; if I didn't, there would be nothing left in existence, save my fellow gods, if they were very lucky.

"What are you going to do about it, Zartaris? Dazzle me with your now nonexistent powers?"

I could feel the power of my last magic build to its fullest. I whispered a blessing for the mortals, for Termina, for my family, and I took a breath, savoring its revitalizing affects.

"You win the battle, Majora, but I, Zartaris, God of Nobility, win the war! Feel my wrath and tremble!" A sphere of sacred light formed around us, supercharged with the power of the elements, fueled by my resolve and hatred. The heavens unraveled in a brilliant bolt of lightning as I bombarded Majora with the most powerful disaster ever seen. Imagine everything in existence exploding, amplify that by infinity, and that doesn't even approach what I hit that being of darkness with. Yet it was a double edged sword, for the instant it was done with Majora, it settled on me.

I saw darkness. Then I saw the past, images of better times; Vulcan was alive, the mortals I loved were happy, life was better. I felt a dark hand reach into my death and pull me out. As I opened my eyes, I was looking into the eyes of the mask.

"So, Zartaris, you thought I was done for, didn't you?" I had failed…it was still alive…and it had brought me back to life? "Didn't you hear me earlier? Death matters none to me! I cannot be destroyed, but you can, as you just proved with that wasteful display of power."

"What do you want me for? Death is better than what I have done…better than my crime…I failed, and all will suffer under you…"

"Death is too good for you! You will see your mortals again, for I'm sending you to Termina! You and the rest of the gods will live under me for eternity as mortals! As for this piece of trash," Majora threw away the Legend's Flame. "I cannot destroy that, but no one will ever get to use that horrid thing again."

I weakly reached towards my sword. Majora hit my arm with a weakened beam of flame, and involuntarily I pulled away from it.

"So Zartaris, you will live with your people for all time. Be gone from my presence!"

I felt myself dissolve. As a thin thread of existence I fell from what was left of the heavens. When I rematerialized, I was back in Termina, but this time, I was a slave. I was a god without power, an immortal without immortality. In short, life looked hopeless.


	5. Chapter 5: In the Hands of Friends

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Nintendo; I have no claim to any of the characters in the story below (except for the name Zartaris.) Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo own the Legend of Zelda series, not me.

That was how Majora became the God of Darkness, the High God of the Universe. I had failed all things…my people…my godly family…my son Vulcan…and myself. I, Zartaris, the most powerful of the gods, had been overpowered by it, and it had claimed all creation for itself.

Worst of all, the mask wouldn't let me end my life. No sentence was worthy of a crime of my magnitude. Now, I had truly become a Hylian, one of my people; mortal, all my former powers completely revoked.

I was lying in the middle of a burned field just outside of what was left of Clock Town, which seemed mostly intact, probably due to the highly organized government. As for myself, I could feel pain; a completely new concept for me, for gods do not ever get hurt. I tried to get up, but the pain of broken ribs was too strong. For the fist time, I screamed in pain. I stopped moving, and planned my next move.

Obviously, my injuries were extensive; I knew as a fact that I had broken ribs, a severely burned arm, a deep gash across my waist, and most likely, I had many other wounds not yet noticed. However, I had no worries over them; Majora had let me live so I could suffer under its rule, so I doubted he would allow those injuries to kill me. Yet they hindered me greatly; because of them, I was stuck in a smoldering field, seized with the new sensation of physical pain; being unused to it, I couldn't tolerate it for a second. So, I simply stayed in one place, not moving, hoping for some sort of rescue.

It started to rain. From dark clouds poured forth a stream of water, completely soaking me and changing the ground I was lying on into a soft goop. Seeing no alternatives but waiting for things to look up, I closed my eyes and explored the depths of my mind. To my surprise, I was finding it more and more difficult to remember the past; as if my memory was being erased…possibly it was. However, I did find something, something very useful. I had somehow managed to retain one of my weaker powers, telepathy. Unsurprisingly, this was a good sign.

I reached out with my mind, searching for anyone who might want to help me. I could feel Hylian presence in Clock Town, but they were busy combating the fires caused by Majora. Further out, I could feel the Gorons, but they were almost all the way across Termina; they wouldn't arrive for hours. I tried in a different direction, and finally, I found a hope in a nearby ranch. I could feel two women there, probably sisters. With luck, perhaps I could convince one of them to listen to the voice that I would place in her head, come over here, and rescue me. Anyhow, for better or worse, it was worth a shot.

I concentrated, imagining my voice reaching for miles. Further and further I stretched it, until it finally settled in the living room of the main ranch building.

*Please, help me…* I begged telepathically.

"What was that?" I heard a young girl cry out, obviously a little frightened.

"Romani, don't worry a bit. It was just the wind," a young woman's voice tried to reassure the child.

"It sounded like someone saying, help me," the girl Romani whimpered, "and the wind can't say that."

*Please, help me…*

"That time I heard it!" the woman said loudly.

"Cremia, I'm scared."

"Don't be, Romani. We'll find him."

*I'm outside of Clock Town in a field…I speak through telepathy. Follow your hearts…your heart and instincts will guide you…*

"Romani, get the horses ready. We're going to find him."

*Horses may not be a good idea. I am badly wounded…*

"Maybe the cart would be better, Cremia?"

"The cart is so slow, Romani. He might not be alive when we reach him."

*I will be alright…I am hurt, but I can wait for the cart…horses will make it worse…the cart won't.*

"Then it's settled. We'll take the cart," said Cremia. "Come, Romani! Let's hurry!"

That was the last I heard of that conversation, for darkness swept over my mind, plunging me into the Hylian subconscious mind. When a god is unconscious, we can still think, but obviously, Hylians are different, for I was out like an extinguished candle. When I came to, I was in a soft bed.

My exposed wounds had been bandaged carefully; I was in good hands. However, it was still painful, as I learned when I tried to get up. It was apparent that time was a necessity in healing wounds of this magnitude. Seeing that no one was around, I explored the depths of my mind. The past was foggy, but it had not gotten worse; with persistence I could still bring things out of memory.

"Hey Romani, he's awake!" Cremia came in, relieved that I had woke up. She was followed by her little sister Romani, who seemed equally relieved.

"Good morning. Thank you both for coming to my aid," I said.

"We're just glad you're alive. I'm Cremia of Romani Ranch, and this is my little sister, Romani. So how did you get so tore up? And what's your name?" asked Cremia.

"I am Zartaris, the G…just Zartaris. I was…fighting with a wizard."

"Mr. Zartaris, who was it?" asked Romani.

"It was-" I quickly contemplated the answer, and decided that it would make no difference whether they knew the truth or not, for they had probably never even heard of the evil mask. "Majora. Just call me Zartaris."

Cremia fetched a bottle of a red fluid from a cupboard and gave it to me. "This is a red potion, Zartaris. Now that you're awake, you can drink it, and it will heal you."

The stuff tasted like spoiled ambrosia (ambrosia is the food of the gods,) but I drank it anyway. For a moment, my body went numb, and I could see my injuries glowing brightly as they healed. The numbness wore away, and I was restored.

Romani asked, "Zartaris, is Majora a mask?"

Naturally, I was startled. "Wha…I mean h-how do you know?"

"Grasshopper told me all about Majora's Mask," Romani giggled.

"Who's Grasshopper?" I asked.

"Her pet name for Link," said Cremia. "I haven't seen him for a while now."

"Oh. Well, yes, I guess Majora was a mask, Romani."

"What was it like, fighting a mask? Was it dangerous? Deadly? Did you defeat it?"

"Now Romani, we really shouldn't inundate Zartaris with questions like that," said Cremia, saving me from saying things I would rather not bring back to mind.

"That's all right. I really don't mind."

"Zartaris, do you live in Clock Town? If you do, we're making a delivery later today, and you can come with us if you want."

"Thank you for your offer, Cremia, but I must decline; I have no home in Clock Town."

"Well, where do you live? We can drop you off; you shouldn't do much traveling for a while after being torn up like that."

"Um…My home was burned down, just like part of Clock Town." I had to think of some kind of excuse, other than, 'I am a former god with no home who blundered and ruined your future; expect life to become exponentially harder.'

"Clock Town was burned? We had heard that parts of the field had been burned, but not the town. That is a shame, especially with your home and all," Cremia said, sympathetically. "You have no place to stay?"

"I will find a place. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"If you say so, I guess. Well, we have to go load the Château Romani for the run to Clock Town—what's left of it, that is."

"Château Romani?"

"It is an alcoholic drink made from aged milk, Zartaris."

"Oh. Could you use a hand loading the milk, Cremia? You saved my life, allow me to repay you back somehow."

"Alright, I suppose you can help. Follow me, and I'll show you what we need to do."

The job wasn't hard at all. In fact, each bottle of the stuff was small and relatively light, so all I had to do was simply take a bottle from the basement storage racks, hand it to Romani, who, standing on the basement stairs, would hand it to Cremia, who placed each one in a box on the cart. Working in this fashion, the job was done within an hour. With the cart full, Romani and Cremia were ready to make their delivery.

"Are you sure we can't take you anyplace?" asked Cremia.

"Well, alright. I suppose you could give me a lift to Clock Town, if that would be alright with you."

"It would be fine with me."

I boarded the cart; soon, though the pace of the cart was little more than a brisk walk, we were out on the field, the road to the ranch almost out of sight. About a mile ahead was Clock Town, from this point of view mostly unscathed. However, the puffs of smoke, weak but still there, proved that there had indeed been a fire, but it had been brought under control.

Yes, I was back in the land I had created. I was with the descendents of the people I had treated as my beloved children. This time though, I was actually one of them. My height, previously fifteen feet, had become a simple six. My old strength was gone, and only one of my powers was left. Strangely, I still retained my unusually colored (even for a god) platinum hair, making me look rather unusual; fortunately, neither Cremia nor Romani had thought to ask about it. The color was a vibrant, almost metallically reflective platinum, so it couldn't be confused with old age; I didn't even look old. Majora had made me into a Hylian male in the prime years of life, possibly early to mid twenties.

The cart had rolled to a stop; we were at Clock Town. I disembarked and thanked my friends and resolvedly entered the town. This had been my world, and even if I was no longer divine, I intended to help rebuild what I had created. One day, I promise, I will somehow destroy Majora; reclaim my old place, see my son again. I have no clue at how I will do it, but the God of Nobility can be known for persistence!


	6. Chapter 6: My Arrival in Clock Town

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Nintendo; I have no claim to any of the characters in the story below (except for the name Zartaris, Julios, Darlen, Eris, and Laura.) Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo own the Legend of Zelda series, not me.

I was very surprised (not to mention a lot pleased) to discover that Clock Town's democratic government, still running the exact way I had designed it, had mobilized countless fire brigades to extinguish the fires Majora had sent. As a result, the town had emerged, almost completely unscathed, from the attack; there were no fatalities, only scorched and blackened wood here and there. I couldn't help but be very proud of my people.

However, I had to remind myself that it was no longer my place to be the benevolent father figure of Termina, as I had been. I was truly one of them now, as much as I would have wished it wasn't that way. How could I protect my land and those I counted as my children if I lacked the godly advantage?

I would figure out a way. Until then though, I would have to figure out what to do in Termina. So I sat down on a crate near an inn, and plotted my moves.

Eventually, I decided that food and water were the biggest and foremost musts. Water was taken care of, for there were several public water fountains and wells in Clock Town. However, unless I was going to beg, food meant that I had better get some sort of job. I quickly decided that with my build and past experience as a swordsman, I could find employment with the town guards.

Employment with the guards meant I would also receive money and shelter. Perhaps the shelter wouldn't be first class quality, but it would be better than nothing at all. With a little time, I could save enough to buy my own home, get a more likable vocation, and figure out how to become a god again, if possible.

My thoughts were unexpectedly interrupted. "Oh no!" shouted a familiar voice.

I looked up to see a small crowd in front of me. They were, in human form, Julios, Darlen, Din, Nayru, Farore, Eris, Aries, and Laura. They did not look pleased at seeing me.

"Zartaris…then, you have failed?" said Farore.

"I have failed all. Myself, my family, our creations, and… my son. I was beaten by the Mask of Majora. It has become the master, and we are its servants. But I will never submit to it!" I got up, my fists clenched.

"Calm down son," Julios didn't seem angry at all.

"Why aren't you furious with me? I lost it all! Everything!"

"We all had a talk, my son. We've decided that we shouldn't be angry with you for anything, because you were never the one who was truly to blame. We were."

"You were?"

"From the start of it all," Darlen started. "We were on the wrong track. When you controlled our minds with your powers, we all blamed you for it. Yet the fault was with ourselves; we had abused our creations, turning them into entertainment, and forgotten our responsibilities to our creations. Continued, this could have only stirred up problems, and eventually it did."

Aries continued. "After we overthrew you, it was my stupid idea to create Majora to haunt your world. We did just that, and we turned Termina into a giant arena, with periodic gladiatorial fights between the forces of evil, Majora, and the forces of good, your people and the Four Giants of Termina. Finally though, it caught up with us; our creation was utterly destroyed, yet in death, it somehow grew in power, and it returned."

"At the same time, you returned. Instead of realizing our mistake during your ten thousand year imprisonment, we grew even more resentful of you, and when you arrived, we were most unwelcoming, even hostile. When you took back your power, we once again blamed you for everything, instead of realizing that we'd stolen it from you, and that it was your right. Finally, we had become so weak and slothful from our own behavior, we were completely unable to resist Majora, and you were the only one able to fight. Had we all been ready, we might have stood a chance against it," Laura concluded.

"So that's it?"

"I guess what we're trying to say is that we are sorry. Can you forgive us, Zartaris?"

I could tell that they were sincerely sorry and truly apologetic. For me to refuse forgiveness to them would be as wrong as their imprisonment of me. "I forgive all of you. That was long ago, and as I said, gods do change. Let us forget that past."

It was like a family reunion, only one that had been held back much too long. I don't think there was as much as one dry eye there. I finally got rid of that secret pain in my soul, that yearning to get even. I could finally rest easy with my family. Now was not the time for this though. No longer were we on a 'gravy train.' In Termina, we would have to make our own ways.

"Have any of you found a job?" I said.

Julios replied. "We've been looking. Only Aries has found employment."

"Yep. I'm now Aries, Clock Town guard third class. That might be the lowest there is, but I'll work my way up. At least it is enough to provide me and Darlen with food, a room in the inn, and a little to save."

"You were the God of War, Aries. Why didn't you dazzle them with military prowess?"

"Because, Zartaris, while I know the technicalities and mechanics of war making, I never actually participated in it. I just sat back and watched, and I watched myself to the bottom of the heap. I learn fast, though."

"How about you, my son," asked my mother, Laura. "How have you been doing. After Majora, that is."

"I was at the Romani Ranch outside town. I was badly wounded but they responded to my telepathy and brought me there. They fixed me up, and they brought me here."

"You still have telepathy?"

"Just telepathy, mother."

"Some of us have retained small fragments of our former power," said Darlen. "For instance, I can heal creatures with a thought, and Farore can put courage into a coward at will, or make a brave man whimper in fear. That's all we've got."

"Well, the necessities are food and shelter. It is only about noon, so I suggest we spend the rest of the day looking for ways to obtain both, other than the obvious, begging and such, and then meet under the town clock at sundown." Julios suggested. It was a good plan, and we agreed.

I left my perch on the crate and read a recruiting poster I had seen earlier. They wanted ten swordsmen, to be paid depending on their skill level. Report to the newly built Guard Station, read the poster, located in West Clock Town, next to the Lottery Shop.

I followed the directions and crossed from my current location, East Clock Town, through South Clock Town, to West Clock Town. I found the address and entered.

"What can I do for you, Mr…" a guard at the desk started. He wore armor with crimson chevrons on the shoulder; obviously, he was of high rank.

"Call me Zartaris. I am interested in applying for a position as a guard."

"Swordsman?"

"Yes. I saw that the pay depends on skill; how shall I be tested?"

"We'll have you take a training course, and depending on how well you do, we'll put you in a 'war-game' with one of our best fighters. Pay ranges from one-fifty to two thousand rupees a week."

"Where and when will the tests be held?"

"Three o'clock, today, here."

"When will I know if I have been accepted?"

"After you've been graded, there's a mandatory three day waiting period. Then you'll be able to sign on."

"Then I should like to sign up for the tests."

"Fill out this application then, Zartaris. Put your name, age, weight, and previous employment record on it." He handed me a pen and a blank paper on a clipboard.

I began to fill it out, but I then remembered that I hadn't seen Terminian writing in ten thousand years. Most likely, it would be completely different than the modern form…but then again, I had shown the Terminians how to run schools, so with luck, the school system had kept the writing style pure and unchanged. In the old Terminian runes I remembered I filled out the application and handed it back.

"Hmmmm…little hard to read, but it'll do. Be here at three, and be prompt, because there is competition for these slots. You have a sword, right?"

"I did, but it was lost."

"Very well. We will have spares at the trials, but it helps to be acquainted with your weapon."

"I can acquaint myself to any sword, as long as I can handle it."

"Excellent, then, Zartaris. I'll be seeing you later."

As I left the Guard Station, I glanced at the clock on the wall. It seemed to read one-thirty, but I couldn't be sure if it was true; the way they told time might have changed over the years. Outside I glanced at the sun and breathed a sigh of relief. It might have been thousands of years, but I still knew Termina like the back of my hand. When the sun was there in the sky, it was one-thirty.

I had time to kill, so I decided to explore a little. I left Clock Town through the west entrance, and looked at the Snowhead mountain range. The path was blocked by a wall of ice, but I had no intention on using it, for if I did, I would be late for the tryouts. Then, I remembered that we needed money, and a plan came to mind.

When I had created Termina, I had put my all into it. Hidden in various places around the land, I had scattered secret grottos; each containing a little something for whoever was lucky enough to find them. Perhaps it would be a few rupees, a bomb bag, or something similar. However, here and there I would place a trove of larger proportions. Near where I stood, I had placed one. I ran to the location, only to be greeted by an empty hole. There were only five rupees left; so much for the easy way to get rich.

I walked back to town, arriving at two-thirty. With thirty minutes before the trials, I decided it would be better to have something in my stomach than fight hungry. The last time I had eaten had been yesterday, and that's if you are willing to stretch Cremia's red potion from drink to food. Five rupees bought me a bowl of soup, a loaf of bread, and a small whiskey at the cheapest restaurant. The soup and bread were sub-par, yet tolerable; but I have never been a fan of strong alcohol, so I skipped the drink.

As I left, it was five till three. It was time for the trial. With a hope in my heart and a spring to my step, I returned to the Guard Station, ready for anything.


	7. Chapter 7: News After the Tournament

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Nintendo; I have no claim to any of the characters in the story below (except for the name Zartaris.) Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo own the Legend of Zelda series, not me.

The Guard Station had filled up. There were at least thirty other hopefuls there as I walked in. Most were already armed, but a few weren't, and they were clustered about a display case. Seeing no alternative, I pressed through the crowd and peered in. As I had suspected, here was where you could pick your blade, if you didn't have one. 

They were of all sizes, each forged cold-blue steel. My first action was to reach for the largest, a five foot long blade. Unfortunately, my strength was not what it had been, and I found it difficult to even move it. I finally settled on a medium sized broadsword, roughly three and one half feet long. It was well balanced and razor sharp; I took to it as if it had been my old blade. In a clear area I gave it a practice swing; it handled just like Legend's Flame.

The soldier I had spoken with earlier came to the platform and motioned for silence. "We have secured the use of an automated training center for the first exam. It's across the street," he said. I followed the crowd as he led us out the door to a different building. It was a large room with about ten circular brown indentations on the floor, arranged in a circle.

"I have the floor on an automatic program. For each of you, it will produce a random pattern of targets, boards that will spring from the floor. Your mission is to destroy each board using the tactics you would normally use in battle; once your turn is done, we will compute your score. After all have gone up, the ten highest scorers will fight in a mock battle with me and a few other soldiers. Those last ten's salary depends on who they defeat in the mock battles. Any questions?"

No one responded. "Very well. First up is Jathro Montares."

Jathro seemed to be proficient with the sword. He walked to the middle of the ring and drew his sword, holding it loosely, but no too loose, in his hand. Almost directly behind him, a post shot up from the floor; though he hadn't been looking at it, he knew exactly where it was, as he spun and slashed. The halved post fell in two different directions. This happened several times, as if he had an extrasensory perception on where they would appear. Then I realized how he did this; by watching the people around him and noting the direction their eyes would move, he could figure out where the next board would come from.

He made short work of the test. After about a minute, his score was announced. "Out of forty posts, he missed two, didn't notice one, and destroyed thirty-seven. His score is 93 out of a maximum of one hundred points."

So it went on. Then next one was very new with his blade, I could tell, by the way he gripped its hilt as if he wanted to choke it. As a result, he scored a meager 35 out of one hundred. I thought of my own tactics, uninterrupted by the events around me until I heard my name called.

I stepped into the ring, sword gripped steadily in hand. I felt a little nervous, and try as I did, I could not quell the feeling. However, I was still confident, and I coolly prepared for the battle.

While I normally do not use people's words for my gain, this was one of those times. The head soldier had said, 'destroy each board using the tactics you would normally use in battle,' so I intended to do just that. Telepathically I read the mind of the one who seemed to be paying the most attention to the match, the head soldier himself.

Acting on what he was seeing I swiped my sword around, slicing a post before it had even half emerged. In the next instant, I leapt forward and stabbed a hole through the next. Through the head soldier's eyes I saw two emerging behind me; I spun around, sword extended, lopping both off flush against the floor. I lost count of them and simply acted on my now established process: see, slash, hack, next target. When no more appeared, I sheathed my sword and broke my telepathic link.

"Zartaris has scored…a solid one hundred?!" the head soldier was obviously amazed.

After my display there were only five left; they finished quickly.

"The top ten scorers are Montares, Zartaris, Joras, Lenny, Finny, Samuel, Ral, Kali, Mack, and Georges," said the head guard, "Considering your scores, I have chosen who you will fight. Zartaris will fight me, Montares will fight Jaggers, and Ral will battle with Kaz. The rest of you may leave; you will be notified in three days by mail of your scores."

Two other guards entered. "Kaz, you'll fight Ral. Jaggers, take Montares."

As the other two prepared for battle, the head soldier drew his sword. I pulled out mine and stood in my warrior's stance, legs spread like a wrestler to ensure that I wouldn't fall.

"So, Zartaris, ready?"

"Yes."

He shot out his sword, a bolt of lightning, towards me. With equal speed I blocked and made a move toward his chest; he blocked at the right second, forcing my sword away. Before he recovered, I jumped to his right and swung; somehow, his sword was already in the way. He darted at me, and I flipped back out of the way. As I landed, my sword shot at him, a move he barely blocked.

"You're good at this, you know?" said he, resisting my strength as I pressed my sword against his.

"Thank you," he ducked, and I nearly tripped; only rolling forward quickly got me out of the way of his blade. I leapt to my feet and whipped my blade around; he was again blocking it. I pulled back and zapped it forward…he wasn't blocking!

He sheathed his blade and extended his hand. "You've definitely got a career with us, Zartaris."

Had I not been so confident in my victory I would have breathed a sigh of relief. "Excellent."

"Call me Viscen. I'm head of the guards. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"I taught myself I guess…I never had any real training."

"You've got talent, that's for sure. I've never been beaten."

I didn't really have a response ready; fortunately, he kept talking.

"You can expect your approval in three days. Well, you're hired."

"Any more paper work?"

"Not until the letter arrives. Have a nice day."

"You too, Viscen." I left the training center and looked around. It was almost night time, and since I had practically had a good, 2000 rupee per week job clinched, I was in a celebratory mood. Though I couldn't buy anything, I decided to go to the Milk Bar I had seen advertised on posters here and there, just to inhale the sights and sounds. I arrived about an hour before ten o'clock. The door was unlocked, so I entered.

The bar was more of a club; it was a members only type operation, said a sign near the entrance door. I was about to turn back when the barkeep called up to me.

"Where you going, stranger?"

"Out. Members only, I see."

"Aw, come on, it's an hour before we open. What'll it be, stranger?"

"No money."

"Well…tell you what. I'm supposed to sweep this floor…" I turned to the portly, mustachioed bar keeper. "But if you do it, I'll get you a good meal. How's that?"

"More than generous." I picked up a broom and started sweeping. Kind of ironic, I thought; I, a former god, the former lord and creator of Termina, reduced to sweeping floors for food. Oh well, others have suffered worse, I'm sure. I am a hard worker, and I had that floor from dusty to clean in ten minutes flat.

"Excellent, mister. Your grub is on the bar."

I started to eat; it was pretty good stuff. I was very hungry, and I had devoured it in just moments. I was starting to get up when the barkeep called me again.

"Hey, stranger, sit down. Come on, stay for a while."

"Why?"

"Didn't you hear the latest?"

Evidently I hadn't, though I had heard some gossip about a Zora band, the Indigo-Gos.

"The Indigo-Gos are performing here tonight! If you stay around for a while, you can see them getting ready for tonight. I'm expecting them here any moment."

"Really?" If I wanted to live in Termina normally while I planned to eliminate Majora, I would have to fit in.

"Yep. And we are also getting the world famous Gorman troupe here too!"

"Is it a holiday?"

"No, it's just that the Indigo-Gos are coming to town! The Gormans troupe is going to do tricks and stunts to go with the music. I hear they will be great!" The barkeep was ecstatic; that was natural, for I figured that he was probably the owner of the bar, considering the evident pride he had in a band of such fame playing in his establishment. Just as I was about to say something, I heard a knocking at the door.

"They're here!" shouted the barkeep as he ran to the door. The instant he opened it, I knew he was right, from the noise that the crowd (which had suddenly formed outside) was making. Moments later, the band entered, toting their instruments, followed by the Gorman troupe. In seconds, the Milk Bar was packed.

I couldn't help but watch with some admiration as I watched them set up their instruments. It was simply an entrancing sight, especially since it showed that even if Majora planned to turn the universe into a wasteland, it hadn't yet started. A tall, mustached man, wearing fancy clothes and a lacy collar, sat down on the stool next to me. Another tall man, also mustached, but in less expensive dress, sat next to him and started talking. The two resembled each other so much that I knew they had to be related.

The band began tuning up their instruments for the performance. To compensate, the men I had seen rose their voices slightly.

"So, how's it on the farm?"

"Been better." I normally do not eavesdrop, but I couldn't help but notice. "You know that Romani ranch?"

My ears strained to hear. "Yeah?"

"They're drivin' us outta business! They are not only cheaper than us; they don't water their stuff down. It's better than ours is!"

"Why didn't you take care of them?" said the expensively dressed man.

"I tried, but they got some kid to help 'em. He protected their shipment."

"I know who you're talking about. Link, is it?"

"Yeah."

"He's gone. He got on a horse and rode off. Without the runt, those women can't fend for themselves. They've got no weapons and no training."

The less expensively dressed man laughed evilly. "Please excuse me, then. Tomorrow, there's gonna be more than just a concert in the newspaper!"

"That's the spirit, bro. Excuse me, I need to go up now." Both men got up, one headed for the stage, the other for the door.

I wouldn't stand for it. Those thugs were not going to put that ranch out of business. I stood up and left, taking the fastest route for the Romani ranch, the Song of Soaring.

It had been thousands of years since I had invented the melody. It would take the person who played it to an Owl Statue, statues I had had a wise old owl place around the land. Whether it would work or not, I didn't know. Concentrating on the Owl Statue nearest the ranch, I whistled the tune.

Instantly I was enveloped in a magical cocoon of feathers. It was a split second thing; before I could feel them on me, they vanished. I stood in front of a stone statue, the image of an Owl. Romani ranch was nearby, and I ran down the Milk Road towards it.

I arrived at midnight. From the darkened windows, I knew that they were asleep, but I had to do it. I knocked on the door until Cremia, clad only in her nightgown, answered.

"What are you doing, pounding on the door this time of night, Zartaris?" she said sternly, understandably annoyed.

"Cremia, this is important. I was at the Milk Bar, and a creep who owns a nearby ranch is coming to cause trouble!"

She was wide awake in an instant. "The Gormans?"

"They are tall and have black mustaches. They say they own a farm near here."

"It has to be…Zartaris, I don't know what to do…we don't have any weapons."

"I'll stand guard. I just need a pitchfork or scythe. You and your sister can sleep."

Cremia was silent for a moment. "Alright. There's a scythe in the barn," she said. "I'll get it." She walked out to the barn and returned with the reaping tool a moment later.

I took it in my hand. "Where would you like me to guard?"

"It's chilly out here," she said. "We can wait inside."

"We?"

"Of course. I must help defend the ranch."

Romani came downstairs, also in her nightgown, clutching a bow and holding a quiver. "Can I help?"

"You may," said Cremia. We went inside and sat next to the fireplace, turning on no lights. Perhaps it would be a long wait, but I was patient. I would defend them to the best of my abilities; with my mortal life if I had to. I would not fail again. Not this time.

--------------------

Cliffhanger! Will Zartaris fail once again? Will he successfully defend the ranch, or will he fail, again? How will he defeat Majora, the new god of the universe, if he is not a god himself, and does not have the Legend's Flame? Tune in, next episode, same Zelda time, same Zelda channel. And don't forget to leave a review!


	8. Chapter 8: The Romani Defensive

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Nintendo; I have no claim to any of the characters in the story below (except for the name Zartaris.) Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo own the Legend of Zelda series, not me.

The clock struck one in the morning. Romani had fallen asleep, and Cremia was dozing. Then, I remembered something…wasn't I supposed to meet with my family and tell them whether or not I had been successful in getting a job? A full five hours ago, I remembered as I looked at the clock on the mantle.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself talking with Farore. I spoke mentally.

*Farore, are you awake?*

No answer. She was asleep.

*Wake up. It's me, Zartaris. I must talk to you,* I thought, putting more emphasis on my words.

*Yawnn…Zartaris, is that you?*

*Yes it is.*

*Where are you? We were worried when you didn't show up for the meeting.*

*I'm at the Romani Ranch again. Several thugs are planning to do something awful to them.*

*When will you be back?*

*I don't know, but when I do, I'll tell you.*

*Ok…did you get a job?*

*I did indeed! I've been guaranteed a position as a town guard. And the others?*

*Darlen started working at the Lottery Shop today, but the others are finding jobs hard to come by.*

*Well, good luck. Talk to you later.*

*Bye.*

I cut off the telepathic link and looked around. It was late. It was dark outside. My eyelids were growing heavy. I will not fall asleep, I thought to myself.

I jerked my eyes open and inwardly cursed. The black sky had been replaced with dawn's first light. I had been asleep for several hours. I sighed with relief as I glanced around; the girls were unhurt, sleeping peacefully. Cremia moved, and then sleepily opened her eyes.

"Oh, good morning, Zartaris."

"Good morning, Cremia."

Cremia got up and shook Romani gently. "Get up, Romani, it's your turn to milk the cows."

Romani opened her eyes and yawned, picking up her bow and arrows from the ground next to her chair. "What time is it?"

"Dawn," Cremia replied.

Romani stood up, rubbed her eyes, and walked to the front door.

"Wait! I'll go with you," I got up and picked up the scythe. "I thought the Gormans would try to attack last night, because they had said it would be news today. Perhaps they meant to attack today."

Cremia nodded. "I suspect they will attack at 6 tonight. That is when me and Romani will take the Château Romani to the Milk Bar. We will have to drive our cart right past their ranch, and if they block the road like last time, the shipment will be a sitting duck. Wipe it out, and we'd lose a lot of money, and possibly our contract with the Milk Bar as their sole supplier. Château Romani is so popular there that if we mess up a shipment, they would probably have the Gorman Ranch start delivery."

"A nice, neat way to wipe this ranch off the map. No killing or provable criminal activity, just a pile of broken bottles, a lost shipment, and a suddenly prosperous Gorman Ranch. So neat and clean that it is sickening." I made a fist of my hand and relaxed it. "Sickening that people like that can get away with things like that. Disgusting."

Cremia nodded. "I'll go make breakfast." She disappeared into the kitchen.

I followed Romani out to the cowshed.  As she milked, I gave the scythe a few tentative swings at an old bucket, not trying to hit it, just trying to gauge the agility of the weapon. It took a good deal of effort to get it going, and was difficult to stop. The fact that it was unwieldy showed how deadly it was: once moving, it would slice clean through almost anything. It also showed that it would not be a good weapon to use on a shaky cart.

I picked up a pitchfork and tested it out. No good. To make it a weapon required me to put my strength into moving it. If I missed a target, I'd fall out of the cart. Next was a shovel, but it was also ineffective. I finally settled back to my scythe, for it was still the best choice. I tried not to think of the possible battle ahead.

Romani finished milking. "Zartaris, could you help me move the cows into the pasture?"

"Certainly." I pulled open the door and led the first cow outside, towards the green fields. Romani came out with a second, and I came out with the third. "Only three?"

"We're a small operation," said Romani. "Cremia says we used to be bigger, though. Cremia told me that when Dad was alive, the Gormans set up a tent on the edge of our property, near where the Gorman ranch house is now. They lived there for seven years, and they used the squatter's rights laws to take the piece of our property that is now the Gorman Ranch. We could not sustain more than three cows with what was left."

I clenched my teeth and followed Romani back to the house. As we stepped in, I could smell the warm aroma of eggs and bacon. I sat with Cremia and Romani at the table and started eating. It was, in one word, delectable. Then, I had a remembrance, a recollection from when I had been god of Termina. I had visited one of my people's homes, and I had stayed for breakfast. It was the same stuff, bacon and eggs, but it had tasted horrible. Even my tastes have changed, now that I am a human, I thought. I now remembered sweet ambrosia, the food of the gods, as the most disgusting sludge I had ever tasted. Interesting.

"That was excellent, Cremia," I wiped my mouth with a napkin.

"Thank you. It's really nothing," she smiled. "Romani, we need to tend the garden today."

"Aww, sis, do we have to?"

"Unless we want the caterpillars to eat our vegetables, and the weeds to choke out the plants."

I volunteered my aid.

"We need you rested for tonight. We can't risk tiring you out in the garden."

"Cremia, I really must insist. For me to do nothing while you work is like leaving a debt unpaid."

"Yes, but neither I nor Romani are very handy with weapons. Think of tonight as payment."

"I'm good at the bow and arrows!" protested the younger sister. Cremia said nothing in response.

I saw that Cremia had made up her mind. "Very well, I'll rest." I sat back on my chair, defeated. I watched as the sisters left.

It was nine thirty. I had a long wait. Closing my eyes, I began imagining a battle plan. I would have to somehow compensate for my grossly awkward weapon, and it was very possible that I might have to use it on a moving target with the wagon below me moving. Combined with the fact that my scythe was only four feet long would make things very difficult.

I considered all my known alternatives. I could call my family for help, but they had their own lives to lead, and none of them were good fighters. I could alert the Clock Town guard, but they would not arrive until it was too late. Perhaps I could storm the Gorman Ranch, set loose the horses, and keep them busy chasing them? To risky, I decided, because if I were caught, the girls would have to fend for themselves, and I had no clue how Gorman Ranch was laid out. Maybe we could disguise the shipment, or transport it on several horses? No, because if the plan was discovered, each rider would have to fend for himself or herself.

I was so deep in thought that I did not notice the time at all. In what seemed like moments, I was eating lunch, but I was focused on my plan, and I couldn't really pay attention to anything. Time was an enemy, and it passed all too quickly. In what seemed an eye-twinkling, Romani and Cremia came in.

"It's time," said Cremia. I was startled; she must have noticed my anxious fidget. "Nervous? Is something wrong?"

"Yes, something is wrong. This scythe maneuvers like a plow. I'm worried how it is going to do in battle."

"The best thing to do in that kind of situation is to not worry. Worry will not accomplish anything. Are you ready to go?"

"I suppose so." I got up and picked up my scythe. Following Cremia, I left the house and walked to the cart. It had, of all things, a covered top. There was only a small opening in the front and back. The restriction was yet another strike against my chances of defending the women successfully.

I boarded the cart, which was drawn by one stocky horse. I looked at the horse with surprise. We were probably going to need all possible speed to safely get the Château Romani through the Gorman Zone, yet we were only using one horse?

Obviously, Cremia noticed my surprise. "Don't worry about the horse. His mother is Starlight, the fastest racehorse in Termina, and his father had the strength of several ordinary horses. If we need speed, Moonbeam will deliver."

"If you say so," I replied. The cart was full of bottles, except for the back and front. I sat down beside Romani in the front, and Cremia shook the reins. The horse started forward with surprising ease; perhaps Moonbeam would work after all.

The cart rumbled past the ranch gates, onto the Milk Road. It was smooth sailing.

"Estimating Clock Town in an hour," said Cremia. Romani pulled out her bow and strung an arrow, just to test it. She put it away, and we continued.

We rounded the first blind corner. So far, so good. Was it possible, I wondered, that I had made a mountain out of a molehill?

Another blind corner. No Gormanian attackers yet.

"Get in position, Zartaris!" said Cremia, jerking on the reins. The cart flew forward, vibrating like a launching rocket.

I looked back. The Milk Road had been blocked by a gate. I felt a sudden chill as I clambered past the bottles and got into the back of the cart. We were in Gorman territory!

Romani stood next to me, her tiny bow in hand. "I've got ten arrows. I'll help, Zartaris."

Someone shouted, and a second shout joined in. Our cart swept past two horsemen. They were dressed in white robes, and wore stocking caps over their heads, with holes for the eyes. They rode brown and white horses, galloping towards the cart. I held my scythe in position, ready at a moment's notice to swing forth.

One of the horsemen suddenly burst forward with extra speed. He whipped out a pitchfork and aimed at one of the crates of Château Romani. As he came into range, I swung my scythe. Not only did the clumsy blade miss, but I was nearly dragged over the side by its momentum. As I prepared to swing again, a large dart nearly hit the horseman. He fell back, and I saw Romani string another dart sized arrow to her bow.

Both horsemen charged. I swung my scythe, too early. As I had feared, the reaping tool was useless in this type of combat. Romani fended them off, using five arrows, fired in rapid succession. Three missed. She had only four left.

They came in for another attack. I readied my scythe, though I could have now predicted the result easily enough. They were at six…four feet. I swung. Mid swing, the scythe shook violently, and then swung easy. Of all things, the blade had come off! Romani used the last of her arrows to fend them off.

They were homing in for the kill. The Gormans approached, full power, pitchforks targeted and ready. Out of desperation, I swung the long scythe handle at one of the attackers. It smashed into his horse's head, surprising the unfortunate beast. It reared, but the Gorman onboard was skilled enough to get it under control.

My feet were strangely wet. I looked and saw a crate, stabbed by a pitchfork, leaking Chateau Romani. Before I could act, the pitchfork withdrew, dragging the crate with it. I could do nothing more than watch as one of the crates crushed against the ground.

Both attackers came with redoubled fervor. Two sharpened, tri-pronged, barbed pitchforks locked on to two crates. I swung the handle at one of the attackers. At that second, one of the pitchforks angled upwards, caught the handle between the prongs, and deflected it. A quick twist of the pitchfork, and I found myself empty handed. Two crashes; two crates lay split and shattered on the ground.

There was no ending their attack. They leapt forward, and another crate was pulled over. Fortunately, the other pitchfork missed its mark.

I was enraged. I was livid. I was insanely angry. For one moment, I forgot the fact that I was no longer a god. Those demons were attacking my children. They were attacking those I had personally cherished. Those mongrels were doomed. "Stop, you fiend!" I shrieked, pointing my finger at one of them.

No sooner had the word 'Stop' left my tongue, a magical aura surrounded me, vanished, and then surrounded him. He and his horse stood, suddenly stone still.

Romani paled in an instant and shrank against the wagon's cloth top. I glanced back and saw Cremia staring back at the frozen Gorman, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. She closed her mouth and said something silently. Anyone skilled at reading lips would see that she had said, "A wizard?!"

I had no clue where it was from, but I intended to use this strange power. I pointed again, to the other Gorman, who had recovered from his shock and who, instead of running, was stupidly renewing the assault.

"Ice!" I felt the magical aura return, but I missed. Instead, I blasted a tree behind the Gorman with a subzero wind.

"Stop!" This time it hit. The Gorman was quite still.

Cremia pulled the cart to a halt and looked at me with astonishment. "You're a wizard?!" Romani was shivering with fear. Cremia put her hand on her sister's shoulder.

It was three second explanation time. Quickly, I readied my speech. "I must be," I said with considerable genuine surprise. "I didn't know I had it in me!"

Romani stopped shivering and looked at the shipment. Out of ten crates, we had lost four.

Cremia breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. One more less and we'd break the contract. Minimum six crates weekly."

I looked back at the stopped Gormans. "We'll finish the delivery, and then I'll try to wake them up."

"Leave them asleep!" Romani spat.

"Romani! Shame," scolded her older sister, "shame, shame! You sound just like them now. If we don't un-stop them, we're just as bad as they are."

The younger sister grudgingly nodded.

Romani's statement, 'they will just start up again,' made me feel a certain urge. So what if I was going to be tossing away a 2000 rupee per week job? I committed the ultimate in irony; a god was to become…"Cremia, could you use a ranch hand?"


	9. Chapter 9: A Past Remembered

Well, here it is. Can you believe it? I finally got around to the long awaited (I hope?) update. Enjoy!

And remember, I have no affiliation with Nintendo, I have no claim to any of the characters in the story below (except for the name Zartaris). Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo own the Legend of Zelda series, not me.

I became Romani Ranch's only ranch hand. The hours were lousy, the work was tough, and the pay was abysmal (and usually nonexistent;) however, I would be in a position where I could defend these oppressed women.

An hour and forty five minutes later, the delivery was completed. We were back at the Gorman ranch, where I examined the stopped horsemen.

"If memory serves, the correct spell to use would be Fast. Since they have been totally stopped, Fast will bring them to normal speed," I got on the cart and Cremia prepared to set off. I pointed at the Gorman. "Fast!"

Nothing happened. I pointed at the other Gorman. "Fast!"

No affect. "We have a problem…"

Cremia raised her eyebrows. "No wonder why. You're doing it wrong."

"How?"

Cremia glanced around for a second. "Only because I trust you I tell you this, for women practicing sorcery is disproved of by most Terminians. My mother was a dabbler in healing magic, and she told me (for she thought a little white magic was something I should learn) that when under stress, a powerful mage can simply say the name of the spell to use it. However, to use it when not under stress, you must chant magic words."

"How will I learn those?"

"Fortunately, I kept my mother's magic books. Maybe they'll tell you what you need to know."

It was a relatively quiet trip back to the ranch. Not a word was spoken; other than the creaking of the cart and the horse's occasional whinny, all was silent. Romani was asleep, Cremia was driving the cart, and I was deep in thought. Yes, I knew precisely what magic was; after all, I had created it in this world, so knowing it should have been no surprise to me. However, I could only remember the names of the spell; Majora had obviously deprived me of my knowledge of the words of each spell. If only I could experience some wonderful epiphany, I somehow knew I would remember them.

It was late at night when the cart finally arrived at the ranch. The sisters were soon asleep, and I was pouring over Cremia's spell books. It was soon far past midnight, but even as a human, sleep was no match for my will, at least not right then. I was determined to find that spark that would jog my memory to the proper degree. However, these books did not look too promising, for they covered only the simplest of magic.

I soon finished the books. Well, at least I now remembered the spells the books covered. Thankfully, Fast was a spell covered, and I left the ranch and restored the Gormans. Their frozen images, twisted with evident fury, melted away into quivering fleshy shapes of clueless confusion; it was more than a little humorous. Making for a hasty retreat, I spent the time until morning studying the magic tomes, seeking inspiration.

Unfortunately, by morning, the inspiration had not yet arrived, leaving me more than a little disappointed as I ate my breakfast and led the cows to pasture. As I somberly helped Romani weed the garden, I turned my negative emotions back on Majora.

It's trying to hold me back, isn't it, I thought. Oh yes, it most definitely is. Well, your days are numbered, foul creature! Yes, I would toast it good when I got my hands on it.

"What's wrong, Zartaris?" Romani asked.

I looked at the weed in my hand. I had mangled it to such a degree that anyone could tell I was in very poor spirits. I would rather not talk about what I was thinking, yet I knew how many children were; she would feel I was mad at her if I refused to reveal my thoughts.

"My past…I remember very little of it…" I started. "Yet I feel as if my past is one I'd rather forget, for the concept is painful." I suppose I was telling the truth, for the past was painful, and I had forgotten much of it under the influence of Majora.

"Maybe you were defeated…or perhaps something else…it doesn't matter though," said Romani. "You can forget that now, for you're in with friends now."

I nodded and continued with my work. Life was not something to be stopped; I had to accept my place for at least a little while. It was like this for weeks, when things took a turn for the worse; coincidently, it was then that I found my inspiration.

We were at Clock Town, celebrating the Festival of the Giants. It was a yearly festival, held in honor of the Four Giants; when I entered Clock Town with Cremia and Romani, I couldn't help a smug smile, for this was a festival held in honor of the protective gods I had created to protect my realm. Termina was still here; obviously they had done a good job.

We split up, each heading a different direction. Cremia left for the Farmer's Market, while Romani followed the most direct course to the playground in North Clock Town. As for myself, I looked around near the south gate, wondering how to pass the time.

In moments, I had wandered out of Clock Town. Yes, it was here that I had fought the gods. I had tried to deliver justice to other realms by subtly controlling the minds of my fellow deities. For a brief time for us gods, but many millennia for mortals, I had kept all in balance, and all was at peace: paradise. But at what cost? My wish for people to live happily, to benefit from my benevolence, had backfired horribly. My fight with the gods had not only eventually cost me my immortality, but because of my son Vulcan's loyalty to me, he had lost his life. Majora ruled the universe now; who could know how long it would be before the mask would decide to stir up some mayhem? I had really done it.

I looked around. I was standing on top of a tall hill outside of town, one that Romani had once called, "The Sacred Hill." Superstitious mortals. Nothing was special about this hill. However, I then remembered that I had often watched over my people when I was a god from this same hill. Perhaps my fellow gods had erased from the minds of my people any memory of me, but obviously they had not erased the fact that people still felt this hill was sacred.

That was when I saw him. Below the hill stood a laborer, digging up what could only be iron ore, considering its rust red color. It had been thousands of years, yet a forgotten memory suddenly came to life.

I had once done what that laborer was doing just prior to my fight with the gods. With my son at my side, I dug into the earth, almost at that very spot the laborer stood. Vulcan had wondered what I was up to, for I could have simply called the thing I desired into existence. I desired a weapon of such power that no thing could stand against it. I desired the sword I would call the Legend's Flame.

Vulcan had no clue why I had actually been digging for iron ore like a common laborer to make a sword. However, the reason had been simple. Termina was the world I had created; I loved it almost as much as I did my own son. A sword forged from the iron of Termina would be more than a weapon; it would be a symbol of my loyalty to my land. It would be more holy, for my humility in making it this way would enhance its power. It would be a sword of such power, that it would never be surpassed.

And I had failed. I, Zartaris, had failed. I had been defeated twice; by the gods, and by Majora. The first time, because I could not fight my own people, but the second time… I wanted to think that it was because I left Legend's Flame unguarded, but that wasn't the truth and I knew it. I had allowed hate and malice to totally overpower me, and if there is anything that can weaken a god, it is doing what you are not; the God of Nobility cannot be a vengeful berserker. I had weakened myself enormously without realizing it when I had allowed hate to get the best of me. I had dropped Legend's Flame, and then…

There was no use dwelling on such a past. All I could hope to do was learn from it. I closed my eyes and though of nothing but the lessons I learned from my blunder, and their morals: banish hatred from your mind. Be the god you were. Be noble. Then, it hit me. In an instant, I remembered all. Majora could not use my hatred to blind me anymore. Perhaps I was not a god yet, but I had remembered my spells and magic. 

However, I now remembered that there was only one thing I needed to become a god. The immortality of a god does not come from himself: it comes from his worshippers. Once enough people idolize you, you become god of the ability they idolize most. Then, you must die, and in death comes rebirth as a god. It had been millions of years…but even I had once been mortal. I had lived a noble life, hundreds of thousands of years ago…a life so noble, that people revered me as divine when I had died. I found myself reincarnated as the God of Nobility. What was strangest, though, was what had happened when I had awakened as a god.

I had discovered that the preexisting gods all seemed to know me, and they said that I had always been one of them. Suddenly I had had memories extending from before the dawn of time, and far into the future. They said I was family, and I had felt that they were indeed my relations, though I looked different from most of the other gods. Then, when Vulcan had appeared, in an instant, I somehow knew that as a god, he was my son (though I had never had a wife or child.) However, these memories were unimportant at the moment. I had somehow managed to become a god once before, hadn't I? Surely I could repeat the feat!

With new hope in my heart, I walked back into Clock Town. 


	10. Chapter 10: Last Lease on Life

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Nintendo, I have no claim to any of the characters in the story below (except for the name Zartaris). Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo own the Legend of Zelda series, not me.

When I arrived, it was nearing midnight. I had definitely spent a significant amount of time reminiscing, I thought, for I had arrived at noon, and it was nearing midnight. However, it had been a very fruitful use of all that time; in eleven and three quarter hours, I had just remembered more spells and enchantments than anyone could learn in a lifetime. The secrets of the universe of Termina were now open to me. I could now challenge Majora, and perhaps win, for my hatred and lies no longer blinded me.

Using a teleport spell, I traveled to the location of Cremia and Romani. I was standing next to them on the roof of the Stock Pot Inn; it was no surprise that they were here, for they were friends with Anju, the owner of the Inn, and the view was excellent. In fact, not only were they here, but so was Anju and a child; however, with my magic I ascertained immediately that he was under the influence of a spell of Majora, and that he was actually Anju's fiancée, Kafei.

Cremia had actually witnessed my teleport. Fortunately, she knew I had a significant amount of magical potential, and was not too surprised to see me appear, though I could see she had been slightly startled. She recovered nearly instantly.

Cremia introduced me to Anju. "Oh, Anju, this is Zartaris, our new ranch hand."

"It is a pleasure meeting you, ma'am," I said humbly. Though a god, I had always felt respect should be a mutual thing; if I wanted to be respected by my people, I should also respect them.

"Likewise, Zartaris," smiled Anju. "Oh, I'm sorry, this is Kafei, my boyfriend."

"Zartaris," said Kafei, who extended his hand.

I shook it. "Glad to meet you."

"Zartaris is my friend, and a wizard, too," interjected Romani.

Cremia had obviously not mentioned my 'talent' to Anju or Kafei, probably for the same reason that I hadn't yet removed the enchantment on Kafei. As someone who had received training in white magic, Cremia probably knew that the sort of spell Majora had used could only be undone by someone with more power than the mask, or by the mask's destruction. There was nothing I could do for him now.

However, that didn't necessarily mean that Anju and Kafei knew that fact. They were immediately hopeful.

"You're a wizard, Zartaris?"

Anju's question was innocent enough, but I knew precisely why she asked.

"Yes, I am." No reason to lie about it.

"Could you dispel the enchantment on me?"

I closed my eyes for a moment. "I cannot. The sorcerer who cast this enchantment is superior in power. Who was the wizard who did this?"

Anju and Kafei were very disappointed, as was Romani. As for Cremia, she looked disappointed, but I could tell it was a front for the fact that she had known I could not undo the enchantment.

Kafei spoke, bitterness in his voice. "It was a mask."

"Majora…" I had known it was the mask that had cast the spell, but I didn't want them to know that. To become a god again, I had to gain followers who would have faith in me. "That mask you speak of is the Mask of Majora."

"Link mentioned it once. What is it?"

"The Mask of Majora, Anju, is a mask with a demon driving it. It is a possessed object with immense powers. In fact, it is almost a god. It was created thousands of years ago to be the blight of this land, but was neutralized by the four giants. Now, it has come again."

"But Link destroyed it, didn't…" Anju trailed off.

"He did destroy it. But the demon within it survived, and called the mask back into being. However, there is hope yet."

"What hope?"

"That demon is my greatest enemy; more powerful than I, Kafei. I intend to destroy it, even if it costs me everything."

"You'd destroy yourself to rid me of this?"

"And to do more. More than even I comprehend; that mask is the source of most of the calamities that befall us; the poison of the swamps, the endless winters of the mountains, even the rain of fire we had not too long ago, when I first met Cremia and Romani."

The clock tower tolled, interrupting Kafei before he had even started to speak. Fireworks shot into the sky, blazing streaks of light, flowering blooms of color, and thunderclaps of sound.

The moment the clock tolled midnight, I felt an evil worse than any other consume the land. Termina was suddenly plunged into darkness by the foul entity.

"The Mask! It is Majora!"

Romani, Cremia, Anju, and Kafei were paralyzed with fear. I stood boldly and turned towards the clock tower.

Majora's Mask appeared, glowing with a strange darkness that acted like light, yet was definitely evil.

"Hello, my slaves. And of course, a special greeting to the imbecile standing on top of the Inn.

"I am your new god, understood? Looters, thieves, and other such criminals, rejoice!"

Everyone was silent.

Majora's eyes lit up, firing a beam of fire just above the crowds.

"I said, looters, thieves, and criminals, rejoice! Those are the things I will reward. Evil is the way of life, now!"

A large proportion of the crowd, in utter fear for their lives, celebrated.

"Good. Reap your first reward!" Fiery drops rained from the sky; just before they would have caused harm, I extended my arms and cast a shield spell.

"Are you crazy? It'll kill you!" gasped Cremia.

"Then I die for nobility, and the sake of others. My friends, please have faith in me, this once, this one time!"

I could not let Majora do worse than he had already tried to do. Admittedly, I had few followers, but I was willing to risk all for their sakes, even if there was a good possibility they would not be faithful. I teleported in front of Majora.

"Zartaris! You protected those worthless people? You cast that spell to aid them?"

I had had more than enough of this being. "I did, you foul Mask! I am the one who protected them!"

"And what do you intend to do now?"

The crowd was silent. Glancing at them, I noticed that in just a few seconds, Cremia, Romani, Anju, and Kafei had managed to push their way to the front of the crowd. They were watching me, wondering what I would do. My people were supporting me! Only great faith and hope in me could have allowed them to break the paralyzing fear they were under.

"I intend to destroy you. Utterly. Totally. Finally. I want to free all from you, and your evil deeds."

I glanced at the crowd again. My fellow gods had muscled to the front row, and were looking at me.

*Please Zartaris, in spite of our intrigues and plots against you, fight for us! We are nothing against him. However, we still have some power, and we will try to help you. Most importantly, we believe you can deliver us!* Farore said telepathically.

"And how do you intend to do this? I am a god now, you fool! I am immortal!"

Viscen had advanced to the front of the crowd, and he looked at me. The look clearly registered in my mind; it said that he not only knew that Majora was evil, but that I was the best qualified to fight him. He drew his sword slightly and raised his shield. In a second, I realized what he was going to do. He was waiting for a signal.

"I know everyone wants you gone. Everyone feels your evil even now. For them, I fight!"

I quickly nodded towards Viscen; he threw the sword and shield to me, and I grabbed them tightly. He, a person who I hadn't known for more than an hour, had put his life at risk because he had faith in me. My family had come to support me. Cremia and Romani, people who had seen me injured, had conquered their fear to support me. Finally, Anju and Kafei, two people I hadn't known for fifteen minutes, had faith that I could, somehow, help them.

Never again. I would not fail. Not this time. If destiny had my doom planned out, `I would fight and win against the odds; somehow I would fight and win for my people.


	11. Chapter 11: The End

Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Nintendo, I have no claim to any of the characters in the story below (except for the name Zartaris). Shigeru Miyamoto and Nintendo own the Legend of Zelda series, not me.

Majora laughed, an unearthly, creaky wooden noise. "You think you stand a chance against me?"

"But of course."

"Fool." Majora continued to laugh. "Of course, if you want to join my ranks—"

I charged, casting a fire spell on my sword's blade as I approached. I caught Majora off guard, slashing the mask in two.

Majora reformed, obviously startled by my attack. However, the mask quickly regained its bearings, and its eyes started glowing as it charged. Spontaneously, its eyes emitted a beam of fire.

Perhaps the Hylian shield I held would have worked, were Majora still mortal. However, he was not; the shield evaporated. Quickly I focused my magic, forming a small but powerful shield on the palm of my hand. I threw away the molten shield, and used the magic shield to block the fire. Unfortunately, Majora had the power of a god; I just had the power of a warlock.

Within seconds, the shield collapsed. Fortunately, by then, I had a plan. The second the shield expired, I ducked then rolled out of the way, evading Majora's fiery attack. Immediately I countered, casting a holy magic spell.

Which I didn't get a chance to finish. In a single swipe, the mask advanced and sliced through my chest. I watched as the world spun and darkened while Majora sneered.

"A pity. I had such high hopes for you too."

Infinite darkness swaddled me, an inextricable trap I had fallen into. I was a spirit, liberated from a mutilated body that had once been me. Thousands of voices disturbed my soul.

*He failed…Nooooo… It's over for us all… No hope…he's dead…* Hundreds of voices, hundreds of minds, were crying in the dark over my fate.

A veritable cacophony of screams.

Yet some voices I heard clearly.

*I can't believe it. He was better than I was with a sword…he should've won, if anyone could.*

*My cousin…Zartaris, please…if you can hear me, I'm sorry for everything…*

*Son, I…thank you for trying…*

*Gone? This cannot be! He was my bestest friend...like Grasshopper…*

*I told him he couldn't kill him…I said he was crazy…he wanted to help us all…*

*Willing to die to give me and Anju hope…and a future together…*

*It's over…*

*That's it! I'd rather die a hero like Zartaris than die as a coward! I swore I'd protect to become a town guard…If you're watching from somewhere, help me, Zartaris, 'cuz I'm going to follow your example!* Viscen had faith in me…but not enough.

*Cousin, you can't be dead…you must save us! God of Nobility, I pray to you for protection!*

A voice dominated my mind. "Foolish guard! You shall die, Viscen!" I could see and truly hear the scene now, looking down from above. Majora had become his final form and had slammed Viscen against the side of the clock tower.

"Destruction rains from the heavens!" Majora shrieked as flaming lava poured from the sky at the crowds.

I could see reality slipping from my spirit…I had little time left…

Viscen stood unsteadily and charged, the sword he had given me in his hand. *I shall protect…!* his thoughts ran through his mind rapidly. *If there is a god who approves my action, may he give me aid!*

Majora threw the head of the guards against the clock tower again. He stood, more dead then alive, fueled only by resolve.

Majora laughed. "Well? Are you ready for death, like Zartaris?"

*For you, Zartaris, my final charge…last stand…die to do what you wanted to do…you died for others…as a guard…I can…do no less…* the guard was thinking as he began his next attack.

*Cousin Zartaris, hear my plea! You must get up and fight! I have faith…*

*Son…you must try…*

*Zartaris would never die and leave us like this! Just like Grasshopper wouldn't!*

*You were our last hope…if your alive…help me and Romani…help us all!*

*He can't be dead…he lives forever…inside of us…around us…watching…help us…me and Anju!*

*Zartaris, stand and fight! Help us!*

My vision of Termina was dimming…yet Majora had stopped…lowered his guard…the vision filled with light.

I opened my eyes. I was…myself! Alive! Majora staggered back, and Viscen stood agape as I stood, fifteen feet high. I was cloaked in my Black Armor once again, all damaged repaired by the faith of my followers. I unsheathed the Legend's Flame from its scabbard; when I come back to life, it had inexplicably returned to its owner. I had become the god I had been. I was Zartaris, God of Nobility!

Majora lashed at me with its tentacles, but I dodged with ease. I whipped the double helix blade of the Legend's Flame in a vertical slash, and then a thrust, firing two holy energy bursts at the mask.

Before, the mask would have simply called itself back into existence; however, Majora could no longer blind me with my own lies and hatred. I knew how to take the mask down.

It was not a very spectacular battle; it was exceedingly short lived. Majora was nothing without his deceptions and fallacies. The demon behind the mask was a dead being, deceived by its own lie into believing that it still lived. It was so afraid of death, that it refused to accept the end. In the final seconds of its true life, just before Link had struck the final blow, Majora had sealed his consciousness into the mask it had possessed for so long, rendering him immortal.

Realizing this, I discovered his weakness: the secret of defeating death is life. Before, when I had fought Majora, I had been driven by my own power; now I fought with the hopes and dreams of my people backing me. There was no struggle: the moment Legend's Flame made contact with the mask, Majora was forced to accept the truth, and so, he passed away. It wasn't a fight: it was a mercy killing.

I sheathed Legend's Flame and turned to Viscen. He was badly hurt, but I fixed that in fairly short order.

"You're a god?"

"I am the God of Nobility, Viscen."

"Aw, heck, I never stood a chance when we sparred. Thanks, though, for coming to help us."

"I saw your thoughts when you fought Majora."

"Just doing my duty, I guess…"

"That was very noble of you. I favor all who are noble, Viscen."

"Thank you, Zartaris, but I was only doing my duty."

I turned towards the crowd. Kafei had become an adult again, and was hugging Anju. Cremia and Romani were positively ecstatic.

*We knew you could do it, Zartaris,* I heard Farore say telepathically. I looked at the crowd; my family had vanished, having regained their immortality and godhood after the death of Majora.

Romani ran over towards me from the crowd. "I knew you weren't dead! I knew you would save us!"

I smiled at the child's optimism. These were the people I loved, the people I had dedicated myself to.

"Thank you." Cremia was overjoyed. "I thought you were dead."

"But you couldn't believe it." It was time to leave. I had returned and saved my people. Now, I would return to the heavens and resurrect my son.

As I ascended towards the heavens, I heard Cremia once more. "Farewell…Zartaris…"

I stood at the edge of the heavens, standing above the brink of infinity. I stretched my powers, reaching through time, to that exact moment, the moment of the death of Vulcan. I found him and brought his essence out of the mist of death, his life force. Then, he was here, a single thread of being; I cast a spell, resurrecting his body from eons past. The two slowly combined…he opened his eyes. I was overwhelmed with tears as I felt myself throat constrict.

"Father…Zartaris!" Vulcan whispered.

"Vulcan…my son."

For a moment, we stood. Then, we embraced. I was complete. My people were safe; my son had returned. I was a god, forgiven of my past at long last.

Perhaps paradise is an illusion, at least paradise on earth, in life. Even my attempt at bringing paradise to the mortals had been flawed: it hadn't lasted. Perhaps…perhaps only time could tell what destiny wills; perhaps even a god must bow to the will of eternity.

I can only hope that my fellow gods have learned from there follies and change their ways. Only they can do this; I have learned that I cannot help. If they haven't… I dare not think of the possibilities, lest it jinx me. But if they have learned, perchance someday, paradise will be a reality for all.

Well, what did you think? This was my first work of fanfiction, so feedback on how I can improve (constructive, please,) would be greatly appreciated. Sorry for the long delay in finishing this; I had started working on a Zelda novel trilogy, and it had distracted my attention. Thank you for taking your time to read this work.


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